


I'll Bring You Flowers, I'll Make Your Day

by Resacon1990



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Terrible with Feelings, Clark is a Cutie, Flowers, Flowers are the Best, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, lots of kisses, slight AU, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resacon1990/pseuds/Resacon1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Honey, I'm hooome!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Bring You Flowers, I'll Make Your Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [univeted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/univeted/gifts).



> Inspired by [Broadfields](http://broadfields.tumblr.com) and my conversation about Superbat on tumblr, found [here](http://broadfields.tumblr.com/post/75895134341/so-hi-there-i-have-a-question-for-you-that-is-if).

Truth be told, Bruce doesn't know why he sends most his time here in this slightly run down apartment that's located above another apartment that has residents that like to blast god awful music at sporadic times as loud as their speakers can go and below another apartment with people who seem to have terrible bowel problems if the sounds of the toilet constantly flushing is anything to go by.

"Honey! I'm hooome!"

Oh, right, _that's_ why.

Bruce sighs as he closes the book in his lap, the sound of his boyfriends voice floating through from the front door making him feel embarrassingly warm, and he glances up to settle his glare at the doorway, waiting for him to walk in.

"You know, you don't have to yell that every time you come into the house," he calls out, but only hears a snort in reply before a grinning Clark is in the doorway.

"I know," he replies as he walks over, and Bruce grudgingly raises his head to accept a kiss. Clark grins though, and presses another kiss to Bruce's cheek despite Bruce attempting to swat him away. 

"How was your day?" he continues to ask as he plops down on the arm of Bruce's chair, staring down at him like everything Bruce will have to say is worth his every bit of attention, and Bruce squirms a bit in his chair at Clark's unwavering gaze.

"Boring," he answers truthfully, and Clark pouts before grinning and taking Bruce's hand in his.

"Can I make it better?" he asks excitedly, and Bruce quirks an eyebrow up at him.

"How?" and he doesn't even bat an eyelash as Clark begins to kiss his hand and fingertips, familiar with Clark's overwhelming affection now. It had taken some time to get use to it, and even still he has moments where he gets a bit swamped in the amount of it Clark gives, having not been exposed to it before, but now he just let's him do what he wants.

"Be right back," is all Bruce hears before Clark disappears for a moment then is back and kneeling beside him, a mischievous look on his face. "I've got something for you," he declares with an even bigger grin than before as he pulls his hands out from behind his back with an exaggerated flourish.

Bruce stares at the giant bouquet of flowers suddenly in front of him, forcing himself to school his face into an impassive expression even as he starts to melt inside at the bright reds, purples and yellows staring up at him. They're lovely, he wants to say, but he instead turns his eyes up to Clark's and is a bit stunned at the soft look he sees.

"You, you know I'm a guy right, Clark?" he croaks out after a second, and he hopes that Clark doesn't pick up on the small hitch in his voice. The question doesn't seem to make Clark waver in any way though, and instead he just tilts his head to bury his nose in them and smile up at Bruce.

"But they're beautiful, aren't they?" he asks, his voice muffled by the flowers, "just like you," and Bruce takes in the sight of Clark's face surrounded by bright colours and his brilliant blue eyes blinking up at him under those dorky glasses Bruce has always found _adorable_ …

He quickly stands up and looks away, determined not to let Clark see the blush crawling up his face from his neck.

"You're a menace," he says as he leaves the room, but he just hears Clark laugh behind him.

 

///

 

It's close to midnight when Clark finally drifts off, his arm draped lazily over Bruce's hips, fingers splayed out on his thigh, and his lips still pressed to his back between his shoulder blades where they'd previously been mouthing sweet nothings, that Bruce _still_ refuses to admit makes him feel butterflies, into his skin. The room is quiet, the only sound their steady breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets as Clark wriggles closer.

Bruce can't sleep.

He feels ashamed of himself for just walking away from Clark earlier. The guy had been truly thoughtful in his own little way in getting the flowers, and Bruce can imagine the way Clark most likely would've made the florist smile as he'd fussed over making sure the bouquet was perfect and accidentally waxed poetry about how wonderful Bruce was, because that's _Clark_ and the guy is the biggest romantic he'd ever met.

Slowly he extracts himself from Clark's grip, lifting one leg off of Clark's and pulling the other out from underneath it before sliding out of bed and the dull thud of a hand hitting the mattress makes him pause to see if Clark's awake. 

A soft snore is all he hears though, and Bruce smiles softly as he rummages for some pants or underwear or anything really and comes up with a pair of Superman briefs, Clark's clearly, and he snorts as he slips them on. 

He tries to be quiet as he leaves the room, not wanting to wake Clark, and he successfully makes it out into the kitchen without making a sound. It should be easy, especially for _Batman_ of all people, but even Bruce is still surprised at how completely messy Clark can be, and how his apartment sometimes resembles the inside of a house if a bomb had gone off in it.

Of course he pauses when he sees the flowers sitting in a vase on top of the counter, bright even in the dull light coming off of the clock on the oven, and Bruce hovers beside them for a minute with pursed lips and a tight expression.

He relaxes though when he finally gives in and leans over to smells the fragrance, a small quiet laugh slipping from his lips when he smells freesia and his eyes linger on the bright purply blue ones in the middle. Of course Clark would do that, figure out his favourite smell and colour and just _of course_.

He pulls away and leans against the counter, his eyes lingering on them as he bites his bottom lip a couple of time before he pushes away and gets a drink of water.

"'ou 'kay?" Clark slurs as he slips back into the bedroom a few minutes later, the man lifting his head a little from the bed and blinking up at Bruce, and Bruce offers him a gentle smile as he reaches out and runs his hand through the already atrocious bed hair.

"Yeah, I'm super," he breathes as he leans forward and presses a kiss to Clark's forehead.

"No 'u're not," Clark snorts out, and Bruce laughs quietly against his skin before allowing himself to be tugged down into Clark's embrace.

"Better than you," he replies before squirming as Clark runs his nose down the back of his neck and presses a kiss to his shoulder, his arm slipping around his waist while the other slides under Bruce's pillow.

He only hums in response though, content to keep gently kissing his way across Bruce's back, and Bruce sighs.

"Thank you," he ends up mumbling, "for the flowers."

Clark freezes in his affections, and for a moment Bruce wonders if he said something wrong, before he feels Clark pull him closer and press his face into his skin, an obvious smile on his lips.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," and he laughs as Bruce elbows him in the stomach. 

 

///

 

He hears frantic rustling as soon as he steps into the apartment, slightly annoyed after a run-in with irritable-bowel-syndrome-man from upstairs, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself before calling out.

"It's just me!"

The rustling stops, and there's a moment of silence before, "Bruce? I thought you'd gone?"

Bruce winces a bit, because he has to admit that getting up and leaving the apartment at six in the morning without leaving a note or anything was a bit of a dick move. "I was just getting us breakfast," he calls back as he turns to toeing off his shoes, leaving them on top of Clark's mixed pile of footwear, before making his way into the kitchen, pausing to look at the flowers once again before gritting his teeth and walking past them.

He half expects Clark to join him in the kitchen, but he eventually hears a dull thump and rolls his eyes. Of course he'd just flop back into bed, it is a Sunday after all, and Clark refuses to get out of bed until at least two in the afternoon on Sunday's.

Bruce thinks it's terrible he finds it endearing, not that he complains when Clark likes to spend those Sunday mornings doing more _athletic_ things.

He spreads the baking he'd picked up out on the bench, and pulls down two giant mugs to pour the cafe coffee into, put pauses once to take a deep breath. He glances down at the food briefly before leaving it there and heading into the bedroom.

The sight of Clark cocooned up in his sheets with only the top of his head showing makes him pause in the doorway, quirking an eyebrow as the sheets slowly lower and blue eyes peek out at him.

Clark instantly sits up though, eyes wide and a grin slowly growing on his face.

"Those for me?" he asks, and Bruce glances down to the bouquet of yellow roses, Clark's favourite colour and flower because Bruce really is a sentimental idiot at heart, in his hand before he steps forward and thrusts them at Clark.

"Here," he practically snaps, and he ignores Clark's excited squeak as he takes the bouquet and instantly plunges his face into them, inhaling sharply. Bruce stares at him stupidly for a moment, an uncomfortable rolling feeling in his stomach, before he huffs and leaves the room.

When he comes back in with a tray, all their food piled on top and mugs dangerously swaying with each step, it's to see Clark rolling around in the sheets with the bouquet clutched in his hands and cooing something like "Brucie is such a cutie" over and over.

"Stop that," he barks as he places the tray down on his bed side table and snatches the flowers from Clark's grip to shove them into the vase he'd also brought in, "I only got them because you gave me some."

There's no reply as he reaches over the bed and places the vase down on Clark's side, but as he pulls back he's stopped by Clark's hand grabbing his collar and dragging him down on to the bed, quickly followed by Clark sitting up and covering Bruce with his own very _naked_ body.

"You got them because you looooove me," Clark sing-songs from above him with a wide grin, and Bruce tries to argue but he's cut off by Clark swooping down to press their lips together.

Well, he thinks as he tangles his fingers in Clark's hair and pulls him closer with a moan, what's the point in arguing over the truth?

**Author's Note:**

> First time actually writing Superbat! Which I hope I did well :)
> 
> (Sorry if they're maybe a bit OOC?)
> 
> Thank you so much, Broadfields!
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr if you're keen?](http://resacon1990.tumblr.com/)


End file.
